Tempted

Owing to his falling asleep again, and Bose’s not coming to his room until close on five o’clock, Evan was the last to enter the library, where the family gathered before dinner. It was evident to him, as he scanned their faces, that he had been the subject of their conversation. Lady Mountjoy had high color again, his father was stern, Judith sympathetic. The younger girl—Angel, as she was introduced—looked on him with particular interest. He caught his breath, for she seemed too young, too beautiful to be real. But then she blushed and dropped her eyes and became all too human. Had she faced him down he might have liked her better. A figure moved toward him, one who reminded him vaguely of himself. “Terry?” he asked uncertainly.

“Hallo, Evan. We thought you was dead.” Terry shook his hand and left a mist of brandy fumes in the air.

Evan was still struggling for a reply when Lord Mountjoy helped his wife to her feet. Evan would have been inclined to fall in beside Judith, but Angel pushed past her and appropriated his arm. Judith rolled her eyes heavenward in such an automatic response that Evan grinned in spite of himself.

“You don’t look that old,” Angel confided, staring at the lines around his eyes. “I was thinking twenty-five was very old, but you don’t look much older than Terry.”

Evan smiled and nodded, wondering how he was going to make it through the evening. He sat up straight at dinner. He hadn’t much choice, the way Bose had strapped up his cracked ribs. And he remembered to take his soup to his mouth and not crouch over his food like a hungry animal, as Terry was doing at this moment. Evan could remember many occasions recently when he had hunched ravenously over a crust of bread or a piece of half-cooked meat. But there was a time and place for everything. In his father’s house he could not help but sit at attention as he ate.

Evan glanced at Lord Mountjoy, who was staring at Terry. But his father merely shuddered and looked away. Was it possible the old tartar had mellowed? Evan did not care to find out. He remembered his dizziness from before and took only enough wine to dull the ache in his knees. Riding did not bother him in the ordinary way, not even riding for long stretches at a time, but he had been badly trampled at Bordeaux the previous month, and now a dull ache would creep down to his right knee in particular, nagging at him for days on end. In spite of Angel’s opinion, he felt worn-out, used-up and numb to anything else that might happen to him.

“I think the courtesy of an answer is due your brother,” Lord Mountjoy demanded.

“Sorry, I was not attending.”

“I only asked if you had seen many battles,” Terry repeated.

“Yes.”

“There’s your answer, Terry—yes, he has seen many battles,” Lord Mountjoy quipped.

Evan smiled. “Such conversation is not particularly good table fare, not for children, anyway.”

Angel raised a belligerent chin, as did Terry.

“In that case we shall leave you to your port and your talk of war,” Lady Mountjoy declared as she rose with dignity. Judith left them with a sad smile, Angel with a definite flounce.

Evan realized the meal was over, though he had scarcely touched the food on his plate.

“You always were able to clear a room,” his father said with satisfaction.

“I don’t remember that,” Evan answered.

“You also have a very convenient memory.”

“I am not a child,” Terry interjected, a little the worse for wine.

“I never said you were,” his brother answered.

“Who were you referring to then?”

“Judith and Angel.”

“But Judith has got to be all of twenty-four.”

“Really? Why isn’t she married then?” Evan asked, wondering how such a treasure could have been passed over.

“No fortune,” Terry said.

“I shall provide for the girl,” Lord Mountjoy stated. “A very proper young lady she is, and the greatest help to me.”

Evan stared at his father, for now that he thought of it, one of their long-ago mealtime arguments had been over his father’s philandering. He couldn’t recall the memory so much as he could recite the conversation—his own condemnation and his father’s gruff and unconvincing defense.

“How is she a help to you?” Evan asked pointedly.

“Keeps my library in order, helps me write—damn you, boy, you have a nasty mind,” his father said as he caught Evan’s meaning. “How did you think she helped me?”

“I didn’t know. That’s why I asked.”

“I feel as though she is my daughter. She is too good, almost, for this household.”

“That I can belie—Pardon me,” Evan said, breaking off abruptly. “I was determined to be polite to you, since you invited me in. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t strain yourself. I am not used to any consideration from you.”

Evan fell silent again. Terry, who had been glancing from one to the other, took his turn at conversation. “So you were in a great many battles?”

“It has all blurred together for me, I’m afraid. I was always knee-deep in mud, working on siege parallels, or up to my waist in freezing water trying to shore up a bridge.”

“Didn’t you see any real action?”

“Enough to suit me.”

“Terry, he doesn’t want to talk about it,” their father said.

“Oh, you only had to say so.” Terry drained his glass.

“You are going to have a head tomorrow,” Evan observed.

“Sorry, it isn’t everyday one is displaced. I think I shall go straight to bed.” Terry rose valiantly, but wove his way out of the room.

“Whatever did he mean, and does he make a habit of that?”

“He is not such an aesthete as you promised to be, but no, he does not in general drink his meals.”

“I was wanting to ask about Gram. How did she die, I mean?”

“Who is to say what gives out? The heart, I expect, is what—”

“I know she was old. You don’t have to remind me of that. Was she…alone—lonely?”

“God’s death! Do you think I have no proper feelings, even for a mother-in-law? Of course she wasn’t alone. I was there, and Judith. If you want to know what she said, speak to Judith. She stayed with her more than anyone.”

“Thank you. I didn’t mean to accuse you of neglecting—”

“You have no right to accuse me of anything!”

A slight flush rose to Evan’s face, but he looked his father squarely in the eye—and read resentment and anger there. No surprise; it was what he expected. Evan saw disappointment, too. That also was no surprise. He had always disappointed his father, he thought. He simply could not remember all the details.

Lord Mountjoy got to his feet and walked steadily toward the door, leaving Evan brooding at the table. “Are you coming or not?”

Evan twitched at the summons and stood stiffly, to follow his father back to the library, where candles had been set out on the broad table to light the ladies’ embroidery and hemming. Their pale dresses and colorful shawls looked oddly out of place against the dark leather furniture. Evan could remember when the library had been a man’s haven and wondered that his father permitted this invasion of his sanctuary. He sat where he could watch Judith, and she gave him a sympathetic smile. He desperately wanted to ask after Gram, but only in private. He would wait.

The conversation was desultory, perhaps owing to Angel’s having taken a pout. She tsked over her embroidery. Judith, hemming seam after seam, appeared to be making a shirt. And Lady Mountjoy was doing delicate work on a garment so small it could only have been intended for… Evan’s eyes flew to her waist. Of course. She was in the early months of pregnancy. That accounted for his father’s solicitude, perhaps also for her irrational behavior toward him. He would have found out soon enough that Lord Mountjoy lived. Evan vowed not to make her uneasy during his stay. All he needed was to be accused of causing her to miscarry.

Judith was watching him, and now blushed a little, as though she could read his thoughts. Evan supposed her situation might be hard. It would be easy enough for them to turn such an amiable girl into a drudge. If she had been nursing Gram, perhaps they already had. Something must be done about that.

On the other hand he must remember that he had no say in anything. There was his grandmother’s bequest, though. Perhaps he could—

“I asked if those horses of yours are Andalusians,” Lord Mountjoy shouted. “Are you deaf?”

Evan twitched. “A little, from the shelling. Two of them are from Andalusia. The gelding I bought in Portugal. Bose is riding the horse he took with him from England. Odd that he should have survived when…”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I only got a quick look at them,” Judith said. “What are they like?”

“Lovely when they are better fed. You can ride my mare when they are rested.”

“I don’t ride.”

“Would you like to?”

“No, I don’t care to,” Judith said softly.

Evan did not know how he knew it, but this was a lie. And there did not seem to be a good reason for it. She was blushing and looked tearful. He felt so bad about causing her any kind of pain that he excused himself and went to bed.

Bose had been waiting for him.

“So when’s the wedding?” Evan asked.

“Well, that rather depends on you,” Bose said, helping him off with his dress uniform.

“Me?”

“If we mean to stay, she’ll marry me on the spot. But if we are to be off junketing again, she isn’t sure.”

“Bose, this is impossible. You can’t link your future to mine. I have no idea what I’m going to do.”

“I was thinking we would give it a few days, see what the old gent means to do by you. He was always fair with me.”

“He was?”

“He paid my wages the whole time I waited on you at Cambridge, and sent us money in Spain.”

“I didn’t know that. So that’s why I always had something to eat even when no one had been paid for months.”

“It strikes me you don’t know your father very well. He seems such an amiable man.”

“With everyone but me. Yes, I agree, he can be quite charming.”

“Perhaps if you didn’t argue with him so much…”

“But I didn’t, at least not that I remember. But there’s a great deal I don’t remember from before the accident.”

“You were groggy for weeks…Sending you off to school like that was not well-done of him, but perhaps he regrets that now.”

“That’s past mending. All in all, I’m not sorry. In spite of having you to lean on, I think I amounted to more than if I had stayed home.”

“I agree. And an engineer might be much in demand in civilian life, unlike most of these soldiers.”

“You think I should muster out?”

“You’re not getting any younger.”

“Thank you very much. Whereas you, five years my senior, seem to get younger before my eyes.”

“That is because you are looking at a man in love.”

“Truly, Bose, you are sick of army life, aren’t you?”

“It’s time to move on to something new, time for both of us to move on. I only hope…”

“What?”

“That you won’t let your pride stand in the way of your future the way it did before.”

“Bose. I have been facedown in mud and blood so many times I don’t remember what pride is. I know we won a lot of battles, and that is some consolation, but for myself, I feel beaten by the war.”

“Then listen to your father when he talks. Don’t take everything he says amiss.”

“I shall be polite to him for your sake and Joan’s.”

“Polite isn’t enough. Be kind to him, for your own sake. If we ride away from here now, you might never see him alive again.”

Evan recalled how empty he had felt when Lady Mountjoy let him believe his father was dead, and knew Bose was right. If he left Meremont again, he would not return. It hurt too much, and he wasn’t entirely sure why this was so.

Chapter Two

Evan rose at dawn and dressed himself. He realized it must be hours until breakfast, so he took a walk to the stable to check on their horses. He then wandered down the lane toward the fields. If the house mystified him, the grounds disoriented him. He expected things would have changed, but there were huge trees growing where he did not even remember small trees. The only familiar parts were those Gram had described. He could call up her voice telling him about the lane with the bridge over the stream and the cottages beyond. And there was the small beech wood where one could walk quite unobserved from the lane.

Evan found a path that he must have taken as a boy. It had been kept open by some inveterate walker, and he felt a friendly sympathy for the unknown boy.

He sat down on a rock to rest and try to puzzle out the past, but the crucial memories eluded him. It seemed such a profitless task. He was what he was now. Why unearth memories that were likely to be painful?

He started at a movement among the new foliage, and almost dropped to a crouch before he remembered where he was. A lithe figure picked its way along the path. Not a boy though, but a girl, wearing a shawl and bonnet that looked old-fashioned even to a man who had been absent from England for years.

“Good morning, Judith,” he said quietly, so as not to startle her.

“I didn’t even see you there, you were so still.”

She sat down beside him, which spurred him to ask, “Do you often stop to rest here?”

“Not rest, just listen and think. The way through the wood is too short otherwise. I was just taking some bread to Mrs. Gorn. She’s quite alone now.”

“Isn’t that a job for Lady Mountjoy?”

She looked at him accusingly. “She would do it, if she could.”

“Sorry, that was a stupid thing for me to say.”

“Especially now that you know she is increasing. I saw your face when you guessed. You looked—well, satisfied, as though you had caught her out at something.”

“Did I?” Evan thought back over the previous agonizing evening. If his face was that easily read, they must all think him a cold, brooding fellow. “It had only solved a puzzle for me, about why she doesn’t want me to stay. Her irrational dislike for me makes sense in light of her pregnancy. Women do often act out-of-character when pregnant …don’t they?”

Judith hesitated, and Evan thought she was on the point of denying that her sister disliked him, but instead she asked, “Had you ever thought that perhaps that is the one time they are more truly themselves, when all that matters is the baby and providing for it?”

“I had not thought about it, but then I have not had much time to observe women, let alone wonder about them. You, for instance, are a complete mystery. I would have guessed you to be the type of person who likes horses, not hates them.”

“But I love them!” she said passionately, then looked away.

“But not to ride?”

“I drive tolerably well,” she said, clasping her hands in her lap.

He looked at the strong, competent hands laid against the faded material of her gown and inspiration hit him. “A riding habit. You need a new one, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t want one. What are you that you read my mind like that? It’s not fair.”

“That had to be it. You would love to ride, but you must have a riding habit to do it in. We will go into Exeter and buy you one.”

“We will not. What would people think of me? Men do not buy women clothes.”

“Not even their aunts?”

“I am not related to you by blood at all. It would be highly improper.”

“Improper for me to bring gifts to my family—all my family? You could help me pick out exactly what Helen and Angel would like. We’ll go before breakfast, if you can drive me.”

“I can’t. I have work to do.”

“What sort of work?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You don’t strike me as the sort of person who would put your own interests before your family, even if it meant putting off your work.”

“No, of course not. I mean—”

“You were just using that as an excuse not to help me. Very well. I shall go myself. But I fully intend to buy you a riding habit, whether you want one or not. Of course, left to my own devices, I shall probably choose red, or make some other crucial blunder, but there you have it. I am a soldier and prone to blunder.” He got up decisively.

“No, you must not,” she said, jumping up.

“Not red?”

“No, you must not buy it at all.” She stamped her foot in frustration. “They will think I coerced you.”

“No one coerces me. Hasn’t Father told you how stubborn I am?”

“Time and again.”

“What else did he say about me?”

“Only that you were very unforgiving.”

“Me unforgiving? That’s a good one. Well, do you mean to come with me or no? For I am off now.”

“I will help you choose gifts for your father and the others, but you must not buy me anything.”

“Oh, well, half a loaf…Come then.” He held out his hand to her so commandingly that she took it, and he very nearly dragged her the rest of the way through the wood. She fetched it back when they came at last to the stable.

Before Judith fairly knew what had happened, they were on the road to Exeter, with not so much as her reticule about her, and Evan thrusting the reins upon her. She did not like being poor and resented being made to feel poor by someone she held in awe. She would rather have had her reticule, even if it was empty. But that was what she was like— a sham.

“We shall be late to breakfast,” Judith warned as Evan helped her carry the pile of packages from the stable to the house.

“I’m sure there’ll be something left for us. Then we will go riding and see if that habit looks as good with you on horseback as it did in the shop.”

Judith thanked him hastily and ran up the stairs with her plunder, leaving Evan to find the breakfast parlor on his own. The main hall ran from front to back; cross halls ran the length of the house. Evan opened several doors on the north end of the house before concluding that the shrouded ballroom, salons and drawing room were not much used. If they had been in use when he was a boy, he could only think that he had been barred from them, for nothing looked familiar. The south end of the house contained the library and dining room, what looked like a morning room full of sewing baskets and, finally, the breakfast parlor.

“Where the devil have you been?” Lord Mountjoy demanded of Evan as he sat down.

“Exeter, shopping. We have bought you some tobacco.”

“What nonsense! Haring off first thing in the morning to go shopping. I said I had things to discuss with you.”

“Oh, did you mean this morning?”

“Of course I meant this morning.”

“Could you please pass the ham?” Evan asked of Judith, who had just slipped in and seated herself.

“I want you in the library directly after we’ve eaten.”

“Sorry, I have an appointment,” Evan replied.

“A what? A what?” his father sputtered.

“Evan, it can wait—” Judith started to say.

“Judith has promised to show me the countryside.”

Lady Mountjoy frowned at her sister, and Angel increased her pout. Evan could not help noticing that Angel was dressed in a new muslin of the latest cut, and thought perhaps she was expecting a compliment.

“I should be available in an hour or two if that is convenient.”

“No, it is not! You be in the library in ten minutes—ten minutes!”

“No, I don’t think I can manage that. I suppose tomorrow will do as well.”

“No, it will not.” Lord Mountjoy threw down his fork and left the table. Evan merely cocked an eyebrow at his fuming exit.

“Now see what you have done.” Lady Mountjoy rose from the table and with a penetrating stare commanded her sisters to come with her. Angel went in a pet, but Judith sat gazing at her plate.

“We do make a spectacle, don’t we?” Evan asked of Judith.

“Evan, please have this meeting with him. We can go riding afterward. Besides, it will take me an hour to change.”

“I see,” he said suspiciously. She rose then, forcing him to do so, and he walked with her into the hall. She ran up the stairs, but turned to look back at him with an admonishing expression.

“I’m going. I’m going,” he promised with a laugh and went to knock at the library door.

“Come!”

Evan entered the room as he would that of a commanding officer who had sent for him without telling him why.

“So you have finally found it convenient to talk to me?”

“I’m sorry. I did try to be civil, but I am so unused to it, it is a bit of a strain.”

“For me as well. Look that over and tell me what you think.” His father tossed a document across the desk.

Evan sat down and read for a moment only before he said, “This isn’t Gram’s will. It’s yours. Why do you want me to read this?”

“Just read! You did learn that at your expensive school, didn’t you?”

Evan sighed and read slowly through the document, not believing any of it.

“Have you finished?”

Evan jerked as he had always done at the sound of his father’s voice, bursting on the silence like a shot. It was a habit he resented. If the French cannonading had not made him blink, why did this old man set his nerves on edge? “Yes, I’ve finished, but I don’t understand it.”

“I had thought you intelligent enough to comprehend a simple testament—”

“I mean, why me? Do you really mean to leave everything to me, when we have not spoken for ten years? Surely Terry has a better claim on you. If not Terry, then Thomas.”

“Thomas is as yet unformed and too young to worry over. Terence is…not like you.”

“Which is to say he does not drive you to the verge of apoplexy.”

Lord Mountjoy gave a grudging smile. “No, he does not. In fact, he agrees with every judgment I pronounce, even if I am dead wrong.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Ever wrong?”

Lord Mountjoy leaned back in his chair and braced his elbows on the arms, his fingers propped together in a steeple as he regarded Evan. “More than once I have erred quite fantastically, especially where you were concerned. I feared I would never have a chance to set that right.”

“If you mean to buy my loyalty after all those years of neglect, you cannot.” Evan resisted the impulse to fling the document in his father’s face, but merely laid it on the edge of the desk.

“I had no such thought. I am merely doing what is best for Meremont and everyone concerned. I have already spoken to Terry about it.”

“Let me guess—he agreed with you.”

“He is the most exasperating boy in that respect. Yes, he did.”

Suddenly Evan chuckled. “This is absurd. We should never get along.”

“I do not expect us to. In fact, I don’t want you under the same roof with me. Even I cannot take being rubbed raw at every meal. You may refurbish the dower house for your own until my death, then I’m sure you will give it over to Lady Mountjoy for her use.”

“A rather bleak future for a young mother. I wish you a long and prosperous life, Father.”

“She is not the most biddable of women, but she does give in to me.”

“Not too soon, I hope. Otherwise, you might hold her in the same regard as Terry.”

“No, we have had some rare battles, especially over you.”

“Indeed. I still don’t see what you want with me.”

“I don’t want someone who only agrees with me. I want someone who knows about things. The buildings need repairs. We need a new bridge over the stream to get our crops to market. I want to build a canal—”

“A what?”

“A canal to the Exe. I have bought up almost all the land I need.”

“Oh, no, Father. Not a canal. Have you any idea of the expense?”

“Some idea, but I’m sure you can work that out exactly…Don’t argue for just one moment, until I finish my thought. I also want someone who will disagree with me when the need arises.”

“And not out of mere playfulness?”

“Do you imagine we could ever be on such a footing?” His father looked at him intently.